Bits and Pieces
by jona
Summary: A few random, mostly unconnected pieces of writing from my back-catalogue including: a post-DoR scene, an AU harry-headmaster premise, an AU HP/LL post-war premise, and then some good ol' RW/HG fluff for good measure!
1. post DoR

**A/N - This is a series of 'drabbles'/bits and pieces that I have written over the years, usually beginnings of stories that never got past the first flirtings of ideas and I begin with a little piece of post-Dawn of Realisation universe (not really necessary to have read DoR beforehand but probably quite depressing! lol.**

**No copyright infringement is intended, not making any money from this, just sharing my silly ideas!**

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**Many years post -DoR**

Harry was having another nightmare…

Hermione once again cursed the man for being so damned stubborn that he persisted in maintaining the silencing charms on his bedroom.

She shucked on her dressing gown – it was a tartan one that had been a gift from McGonagall in recognition of her perfect score on her Transfiguration OWL.

It seemed ironic to be thinking of THAT as she hurried across the hall to Harry's room.

She launched her full weight on the door to gain entry.

The screams of 'The-Man-Who-Lived' crashed into her like a sudden wave.

"Harry! Wake up!"

She yelled, desperately trying to tune out the almost inhuman noises her friend was making.

Once again the depth of Harry's torment struck her, massive rolls of magical power were pouring off his shaking body and his face was drawn in agony.

A pitcher of water stood on the bedside table,

Without a thought she emptied it's icy contents onto her friend.

Harry shot up into a sitting position, mouth hanging open and eyes wide in terror.

His gaze fell upon her and seemed to burn into her.

The expression of so much pain and anguish took her breath away, as it always seemed to.

It was a singularly humbling experience.

Slowly, almost painfully so, his body seemed to relax, and inevitably the shutters came down to mask all visible emotion.

"Hermione."

He rasped, running a hand through his untameable hair.

She both loved and hated being to one to witness this vulnerability in him.

It helped to tie him to the boy that she had first befriended all those years ago. It was a reassuring connection to the very roots of their friendship. A relationship, which they had cemented during their inexperienced forays into the frighteningly real and yet impossibly sheltered world of Hogwarts.

At the same time it tore at her heart to see Harry look so weary, almost broken.

He was still suffering deeply, that much was painfully evident.

Hermione knew that she was possibly the only person alive that knew just how deeply wounded Harry had been by his final battle with Voldemort.

The masses had predictably hailed him 'The conquering hero'.

But of the people who had mattered most to Harry, only Hermione had been constant.

Every other important relationship had been tainted, marred or broken beyond repair… And it had almost been too much.

Harry stared, almost uncomprehending, at his Ron's face.

Even as the poison of the words seeped to his heart the face in front of him blurred.

He could see them all…

All of the faces of people he'd loved, those that he'd loved so dearly that even in happiness it had been painful.

But rejection…

Rejection after rejection…

He'd barely seen his best friend walk away from him, but he'd heard the sound of those footsteps, receding into silent oblivion.

He hadn't cared that no one was there to hear it. He'd spoken, in a voice that he hardly recognised as his own.

"I love you Remus Lupin, my teacher, even if you hate me, I truly would have died to save you.

I love you Albus Dumbledore, my mentor, even though you used me. I'm lost without your guidance.

I love you Molly, my mother, I'm so sorry that I failed, that I couldn't save you.

I love you Ron, my brother, in every moment I miss you, I shared my life with you, I would have given anything in return for your presence in my life.

I'll never forget what you all did for me.

I'll never forget what you all mean to me.

I forgive you for leaving me…

Though I'll never forgive myself for pushing you away."

He'd almost lost it, right there.

The sheer magnitude of magic he possessed had almost crushed him in that time of utter grief.

But one thing had summoned his control back to him.

A small soft hand,

Holding his hand.

He could feel the disturbance of a scar running through the centre of the soft skin of her palm.

It was Hermione's hand.

And that had been enough.

Blinking wearily up at the face of his one remaining true friend Harry let out a sigh.

"Hermione. I didn't want to disturb you. I'm sorry."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Oh Harry, you know that I like to do what I can to make this easier for you. Why can't you just let me?"

Harry shook his head.

"I'm sorry."

Hermione pulled him into a hug. He realised that with Hermione he really didn't care if she saw him like this, completely pathetic, fallible, human. His faults and failings laid bare.

"No more silencing charms. I promise."

Harry whispered softly.

Hermione stared hard at him before nodding.

"I know that you'll keep your word Harry. You always do."

***

Hermione was out.

It was quite rare these days that Harry got the house to himself. He wandered around the familiar rooms drinking in the quietness.

It wasn't that Hermione was noisy, it was just the complete solitude and silence that captivated Harry.

His mind often drifted to his cupboard. The only personal space that the Dursley's had afforded him, and which, he'd been forced to share with the vacuum cleaner.

It hadn't offered him the same comfort. The water pipes had run directly past his head and had often clanked noisily. And the whirr of the electricity meter had often kept him awake long into the night whenever Dudley had insisted on having a night-light or a load had been left running in the washing machine.

He glanced at the photo that was framed and on the mantelpiece. Hermione and himself waved back at him smiling gently. Gone was the exuberance of youth, worry lines and weariness clung to their faces, but there was peace there, deep in their eyes.

Oh how Harry longed to recapture even a sense of that peace.

He could barely believe that so many years had passed since he'd been 'The-boy-who-lived'. It seemed as though Snape had been wrong about his fame. Celebrity didn't really _last_. With no new dark lord to defeat and no cloud of fear to feed their desperation for a hero Harry's notoriety had plummeted. Top Aurors and even the brightest scholars filled the newspapers, there was no requirement for the latest gossip about a washed-up nobody like Harry Potter who'd been in a battle once…


	2. Battle Scars

**Battle Scars**

The Headmaster of Hogwarts, Harry Potter was busy doing one of the things he loved best…

Teasing Severus Snape.

"Really Severus, do you honesty expect me to believe that your objections to Gryffindor's new keeper have anything to do with Miss Delgado's safety? Especially when I know that you have a 10 galleon bet with Minerva riding on the outcome of the Gryffindor-Slytherin match!"

Harry chuckled merrily as he watched the potions master squirm in his seat.

Then the man spoke.

"I can see that you remain as biased as ever towards your own house Harry. You're even worse than Albus was."

Growled Severus Snape irritably.

Harry laughed outright.

"Headmasters are, of course, completely unbiased and just."

Severus rolled his eyes before allowing Harry a small smirk.

"So… Now that's sorted. Was there anything else?"

Asked Hogwarts' youngest ever headmaster.

Minerva McGonagall, who'd been sitting silently, enjoying the exchange, now spoke up.

"How are you feeling Harry?"

She asked gently.

Harry's smile faded slightly.

"As well as can be expected. Really, I don't know why you both worry so…"

He soon realised that both Severus and Minerva were frowning at him so he held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay."

He sighed

"The pain is still there and I'm still not sleeping properly… But I can manage!"

Harry hated attention being drawn to his discomfort. It was so much easier to ignore the constant aches and twinges when he didn't have to talk about them.

"Would you be amenable to another batch of dreamless sleep?"

Asked Snape fixing his dark eyes on Harry's desk.

Harry smiled at him affectionately.

"I appreciate the sentiment Severus, but you understand my reluctance to accept your offer don't you?"

Snape nodded, still refusing to meet Harry's bright eyes.

Harry sat back in his chair with a resigned sigh.

"I will continue to manage… As I have already done until now."

McGonagall shifted in her seat and looked as though she really wanted to say something but would not allow it of herself.

"Minerva. I know that you are concerned about me, and I'm sorry that I can't do anything to assuage your concern. I think that it's about time we all accepted the inevitable."

"But Harry, I can't bear it. You seem so calm, but I know that inside you're just as scared as we are."

"I have resigned myself to death Minerva. I did so a long time ago."

"You are not an old man like Albus was Harry! You have so much to live for."

Harry took McGonagall's hand in his own, ignoring the protest of his aching fingers.

"I have given all that I have. I shall enjoy the peace that I have now, but I can give little more."

McGonagall grimaced, as if herself in pain, but she reluctantly nodded and gave Harry's frail hand a small squeeze.

Harry had to fight against a gasp at the pulse of pain that the simple action of affection caused, he thought that Snape might have noticed his discomfort because the professor frowned and stood to leave.

"Come Minerva,"

He said straightening his robe.

"Let's give the headmaster some space. I want to have another look at your proposed quidditch rota."

Harry smiled in gratitude at his old nemesis and watched as his two old professors left the office.

Once they had gone he allowed himself to slouch tiredly in his chair. He couldn't stem the need for 'keeping up appearances'. He'd been doing it throughout his whole life after all.

Fawkes the Phoenix flew over to him and perched on his desk nearby.

The astute bird had forsaken his preferred perch on Harry's shoulder when it had become obvious that the physical contact was causing his young friend considerable pain.

Harry smiled at Dumbledore's companion.

"I don't know why you turned to me of all people Fawkes, but I'm very thankful that you did."

It had surprised Harry immensely that Fawkes had come to him after Dumbledore's passing.

He'd awoken in his Hospital bed feeling worse than he'd ever felt before, and with a profound sense of emptiness.

Harry often wondered if he'd even have survived those first few nights if Fawkes hadn't been there.

He'd felt so guilty and alone.

He had seen Albus Dumbledore die, shortly followed by his deadly enemy Tom Riddle.

It had all been too much to take…

"**So, I get the pleasure of your company as well Dumbledore. I can't say I'm too despondent. In fact, it will save me time. Two birds with one curse, as it were."**

**Voldemort sneered twirling his wand between long skeletal fingers.**

**Harry felt Dumbledore's hand fall gently on his shoulder.**

"**You know what to do Harry."**

**Whispered the headmaster.**

"**Yes sir."**

**Harry replied, straightening himself up and drawing his own wand before the final confrontation began.**

**They both turned to face Voldemort who continued to smirk.**

"**Which of you will be first? The mentor or his protégé?"**

**Harry took a step away from Dumbledore. His heart was hammering in his chest as he approached the dark lord.**

"**Evil dictators first Tom."**

**Growled the Man-Who-Lived, summoning every ounce of composure.**

"**A comedian Potter? Well, I'll have to see to that… Crucio! Let's hear your jokes now"**

**Harry felt the searing pain rip through his frame. He managed a silent prayer that this wasn't going to go spectacularly wrong before dark spots crept into his vision.**

**The curse was lifted and Harry felt himself being hauled to his feet by Dumbledore's strong arm.**

**Blinking a couple of times he saw Voldemort's disgustingly calm and nonchalant figure up ahead.**

"**Go to hell Riddle."**

**Harry chocked, blood ran from the side of his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue and he stumbled slightly but the determination in his voice was clear.**

**Voldemort glared at him and levelled his wand.**

"**You die first Potter… Avada Kedavra!"**

**There was a moment as that green light rushed towards him, that Harry thought he could hear his mother screaming, but there was no time to dwell on it. The curse struck Harry's chest and sent icy electrical shocks straight to his heart.**

**Harry gasped and staggered backwards but he could feel the edge being taken off the curse by Dumbledore.**

**He hoped that the headmaster hadn't taken too much of the curse onto himself when the older wizard fell, but he remembered what he had to do.**

**Fixing his wand on the dark lord he summoned his remaining strength to cast the spell.**

"**Spiritus Mori!"**

**As soon as the spell hit Voldemort's body there was a blast, an explosion of magic, and it sent both Harry and Dumbledore flying…**

**And then there had been blackness…**

"Potter!"

Harry jumped and quickly shook the vision from his mind as he straightened his posture, drawing composure about himself like a shield.

"Severus, was there something else?"

"What are you talking about? I've come to fetch you for dinner."

Harry blinked twice almost unable to believe that he'd let time slip away from him like that.

"Yes, yes. I'll be along shortly."

He muttered waving a hand dismissively in Snape's direction.

When the potions master did not appear to be moving Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

Snape was regarding him coolly.

"Oh, alright then. What is it Severus?"

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead in defeat.

"Harry, you may be an actor of the highest calibre, but I know that you're suffering. I think that you ought to take a break."

Harry remained silent shaking his head slowly from side to side.

"There is no shame in accepting that you need to rest… With what you're dealing with, the obvious pain you're in."

Harry winced and looked up.

"Is it really so obvious?"

He whispered, feeling the iron grip on his control start to slip.

"To me it is."

Harry was sure that he'd never heard Severus Snape speak so softly.

"I can't do it Severus. You can't possibly imagine. It's all I can do. I need this… Being Hogwarts headmaster is the only thing that's kept me sane."

Snape snorted at this but Harry's frown only deepened.

"I can't help thinking that if I let myself relax, even just for a moment…"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Harry could almost feel the Potion Master's penetrating gaze upon him.

He jumped as the other man suddenly embraced him.

"I'm sorry."

Whispered Snape, his voice was almost unrecognisable.

"Even _I_ did not realise."

Harry felt himself slump. He leant heavily on a man who'd been a much-needed source of constancy in his life.

"It's always there Severus. Lurking, like a spectre in the shadows behind me. I can almost feel it… It's… like the rattling breath of a dementor. Always drawing at me, stretching me. And sooner or later I'm going to snap."

Strong arms encased him as he poured out his soul.

He vaguely smelt the fumes of potions clinging to the sleeves but the thought barely registered.

"You don't need to battle this alone Harry."

The soft voice still sounded almost foreign to Harry, but he felt too weak to question it, he clung on to the softly spoken words as a lifeline, anchoring him.

"I've always been here for you… I will be, right to the end. If you'll only let me."

Slowly, very slowly, the moment passed.

Harry gently shifted in the strange embrace.

"Severus."

He rasped, momentarily despairing at the weakness of his voice.

The Potions master recoiled very quickly, stepping back from Harry.

"It's dinner time headmaster. We ought to be leaving."

"Will you lend me your arm Severus. An ill man like me needs all the support he can get, and I know no-one else I'd rather take it from."

Said Harry softly, fixing Snape with his most piercing stare.

When Snape's eyes caught the double meaning of the phrase in Harry's quietly desperate gaze he nearly missed catching the hitch in his breath.

"Of course Harry."

He replied, offering the headmaster his arm.

With a genuine smile on his face Harry took the proffered arm and shakily stood.

"To dinner then, and the shocked faces of the whole school."

He said with a smirk.

Snape snorted.

"Indeed. And we may even be felicitous enough to witness a repeat of Minerva's pumpkin fountain antics… If we are very fortunate."

As it was Minerva McGonagall was less surprised than they'd imagined. Oh, there were certainly a few mutterings, particularly amongst the older students who had heard more about the legendary Potter-Snape feud of years gone by. But on the whole, and particularly amongst the staff, Headmaster Potter and Professor Snape were actually known to be on good terms.

Harry could not resist maintaining his composure and continuing to bury his discomfort to levels that it was barely noticeable to prying eyes. He would not give Voldemort the satisfaction of breaking him, even from beyond the grave.

He was proud of how steady he could hold his cutlery and how efficiently he completed the meal.

He could absolutely ignore the eagle-eyes of Transfiguration and Potions professors and he could even manage a wink for little Gregory Abbott, the 1st year Hufflepuff who seemed always to be staring at him with awe.

He was secretly quite fond of Gregory, the small boy reminded him so much of Colin Creevey that the nostalgia strongly rebuffed any offence at the boy's apparent hero-worship.

He had made sure to ask the fairly new head of Hufflepuff, Leonora Merrywhistle, to keep an eye on the boy and ensure that the obsession wasn't affecting his progress after all.


	3. RWHG drabble

Hermione glanced at Ron briefly before returning her eyes determinedly to the book she was 'reading'. It was ridiculous, she couldn't seem to stop her mind from drifting back to the redhead who sat opposite her, chewing on his quill and frowning down at a divination text.

She desperately tried to refocus on the Arithmancy theory that would normally have captivated her fully.

She knew that Harry had noticed her situation, but she daren't ask him about it. After all, he and Ron were best friends, he probably knew what Ron thought about…

Concentrate! She admonished with a shake of her head.

Still, the idea that Ron might have thought about her… It sent a little shiver down her spine.

"Cold Hermione?" Asked Ron casually.

She blinked hard and had to swallow before replying. "No, I'm fine."

She was more than a bit surprised when Ron, instead of shrugging off her answer cocked his head and offered her his cloak.

"Um, no really, you don't have to…"

She trailed off when Harry nudged her in the ribs and suddenly found herself cocooned in warmth and the musky smell of Ron teased her nose as she snuggled into the slightly tatty, but warm, winter cloak.

"Um, thank you Ron." She said, her voice slightly breathless.

"That's okay." He said, and when she accidentally caught his eye her breath stopped and she saw the warm affection in his clear brown eyes.

She smiled weakly and tore her eyes away fixing them doggedly on her book even as she felt the fierce blush rising on her cheeks.

Ron was pink, his face was pink, his hands were pink, and to his obvious displeasure the scarf about his neck was also bright pink.

He was attempting to unravel the offending scarf without strangling himself with it.

"Ginny! I'm not wearing this thing!" He bellowed.

His sister chortled and poked his ribs.

"You certainly look like you are Ronniekins! Doesn't he Hermione?"

Said the red-headed girl waggling her eyebrows teasingly.

Ron didn't seem to appreciate the joke, he was steadily getting redder and redder. When he looked up at her noticing her for the first time Hermione saw the look of total embarrassment in his posture and she felt the odd pull in her gut, telling her to reassure him, to comfort him. And also to offer him his cloak back, because he did actually look cold after all that quidditch practice in the snow.

She walked over and helped him escape the scarf, she tried not to notice the bared skin of his neck, and she absolutely didn't notice the little patch of freckles below his ear. Absent mindedly she dropped the scarf into Ginny's hands.

"Ron, you do look cold, here's your cloak, I went and got my own in the end, you can have it back, and here, come sit by the fire."

When he wrapped the cloak around himself she grabbed his hand to lead him to the fireplace. It felt like a block of ice.

"Your hands are freezing!"

She exclaimed taking the other hand too.

She started trying to massage some warmth into the pale fingers and her eyes fixated on the differences between their fingers.

Her own hands were small, she'd sometimes wished for longer more elegant fingers but had long ago given up on that possibility. She had ink stains on the finger tips that controlled her quill but otherwise her hands were smooth and clean. Ron's hands on the other hand were large. She absently pondered that this would be an advantage for playing keeper at quidditch and quickly moved her thoughts away from it's other possible advantages. Ron's hands were rough and dirty, a bit flushed from the cold instead of their usual pale colour, he had freckles and some small sparse tufts of ginger hair on his fingers.


	4. AU HPLL postwar drabble

HP/LL 'I can't believe he's gone.'

The Aurors were nervous. The meeting of Auror chiefs reflected that by it's tension.

Complaints and arguments sparked on throughout and the discussion was quickly turning sour.

The High Commissioner of the Auror Department rubbed his brow wearily.

Newly promoted, Kingsley Shacklebolt was having a hard time reigning in some of the comments that flew across the table.

Eventually, even his legendary patience snapped.

" Alright. That's enough! I want silence."

The chiefs quieted, although several mutinous glances betrayed their unwillingness.

" I need all of you to get behind me now. We all know what the stakes are, if we cannot become a united force then we will lose all effectiveness!"

There was a grudging murmur of assent and Kingsley knew he finally had their attention.

"Alright. Now we need to look at the latest suggested objectives for Anti-Death Eater action. I have invited guests from the Unspeakables and the War Council to talk to us."

The door to the chamber opened and two people entered. One was the instantly recognisable Mad-Eye Moody. The second figure was fully cloaked and had no distinguishable features - obviously the unspeakable.

Mad-Eye was the one to speak up first.

"Let us get down to business. The Death Eaters are getting sloppy, their anti-tracer spells have let them down on several occasions… We keep getting closer, so it seems only a matter of time before we get a break. As a result the War Council wants to urge 'Constant Vigilance!' Let's not lose our chance because we are as sloppy as they."

The cloaked Unspeakable coughed with a splutter and seemed to be choking back a laugh.

Kingsley and Nymphadora Tonks exchanged a glance in recognition of the young man that was disguised before them and smiled.

The Unspeakable now stepped forward and gave his address.

"The Department of Mysteries has few field agents. We are not much involved in the ground level of this war. However, information has become available to us, which we feel merits your attention. The Death Eaters have -as several of your Aurors have already informed the Ministry- started using a new form of portkey. This new breed has the ability to transport several people linked by a co-joining spell known affectionately to us as 'the glue spell', which negates the need for physical contact on activation. We believe that there is a way of severing the link and rendering the portkeys useless for multi-person transport. The spell is a simple isolation charm, the casting of which I believe you already know. 'Solatare'. More details of our research will become unclassified once they have passed through the appropriate channels, but the department and the War Council have agreed that it was best to share this information immediately. We shall need to press our advantage, I trust this knowledge will be used for optimum effect."

When he spoke, the man's voice was altered magically to a monotone drawl with no inflection as was the standard procedure for Unspeakables, but they both knew that it belonged to Harry Potter.

***

Once the meeting had been concluded the two Order members met at Kingsley's office.

The Unspeakable was there waiting for them.

"Kingsley! Tonks! It's great to see you both!"

Harry's cloak-hood was thrown back to reveal his shock of black hair and twinkling green eyes. His voice was also returned to its usual rich baritone.

"Harry!"

Squeaked Tonks throwing her arms around his neck.

"Now Tonks, I'm a happily married man these days." Joked Harry good-naturedly.

Kingsley laughed deeply and slapped the Unspeakable on the back.

"At least one of us is! Tonks here still hasn't agreed to a date with that wily old wolf."

Harry's laugh resounded even more loudly.

"You'll make an honest man out of him yet Tonks."

"Was there a reason for this meeting Potter?" Asked Tonks with false annoyance.

"Why indeed Nymphadora dear." Replied Harry cheekily.

"And?"

"I'm afraid that we have a small problem. The Department of Mysteries is coming under more and more scrutiny from the Minister. Fudge simply won't accept that we are working to his best interests. He also wants to change the most important structures of our department. He want's to know exactly who the Unspeakables are! My position is in peril. If anyone from the ministry knew that I was the field agent for the Unspeakables I wouldn't stand a chance!"

Kingsley and Tonks shook their heads.

"I'm sorry Harry. But what can we do?"

Said Tonks running a hand through her electric blue shoulder length hair.

"I need a new identity."

Said Harry with a smirk. "I also need a disguise."

***

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace and directly into his chair. He didn't even bother to brush the soot from his robes.

The chair seemed to be used to this treatment, it was old, frayed and had large black smudges everywhere, but Harry insisted that it was too comfortable to be replaced.

His eyes were drooping shut and his wand hung loosely in his dangling hand.

" 'm home!"

He called out feebly.

When his wife promptly entered the room carrying a steaming cup of his favourite relaxing herbal tea he managed a bright smile, despite his exhaustion.

"Welcome home dear."

Said Luna Potter calmly handing him the cup and saucer with a quick kiss, and then drifting over to the much neater cleaner chair that stood opposite.

Harry sipped his tea tentatively savouring the burning hotness and enjoying most the pleasant aroma and their companionable silence.

Luna knew better than to try and engage Harry in any conversation when he came home like this. His arrival by Floo was an infrequent occasion, he usually apparated home. It meant that he didn't trust his concentration to hold enough to avoid splinching. And if that were the case, it seemed reasonable to her that he would not be in the mood for chatting. Instead she watched him, her pale eyes fixated on his slow, laboured movements, tracking the uncoiling of his rigid frame.

Eventually the tea had soothed Harry and his muscles had relaxed into the chair.

He was the one to start the talking.

"So, my loony wife. How was your day?"

It was always the same question, day after day, said in exactly the same way.

She loved the slightly eccentric routine.

But she also loved surprises, and today her answer would be rather different from normal…

"Well, my hairy husband. I'm pregnant."

Harry's face was a picture.

His mouth was hung open in surprise and his eyes misted with incomprehension.

"Pregnant?"

Luna's face was impassive, but inside her stomach was writhing and she felt slightly dizzy with the blood pounding in her head.

"Yes, I am 'with child', as they say."

Harry shut his mouth and rubbed his forehead.

He stood up, ignorant to the cracks of his joints, and walked over to her.

He dropped to his knees and tentatively placed a hand on Luna's flat stomach gazing up into her pale glossy eyes.

"We're going to have a baby."

He said softly, almost whispering.

"Yes."

Luna replied putting one of her hands over his whilst the other raked through his wild black hair.

"You're pleased?"

Harry chuckled softly.

"Over the moon."

She let out a breath and smiled radiantly.

Harry basked in the joy of it. Her smiles were fairly rare, but when they came they seemed to mean so much more.

***

Months later...

***

Luna was in the potions room when he finally found her. His pulse was thrumming in his ears as he watched her lean over the cauldron with an arm protectively embracing her distended stomach.

How could he tell her the news?

He reluctantly forced his feet to move and her fathomless silver-grey eyes locked onto him immediately.

He watched as realisation dawned on her face and her usual air of calm tranquillity was destroyed.

She started to shake and the bottle of beetle eyes fell from her hand, landing on its side and spewing its contents noisily onto the tabletop.

"No…" She whispered seeming to shrink into herself as she shook her head in denial.

Ron stopped as he reached her and wordlessly embraced the woman.

"I'm so sorry Luna, I…"

There were no words. He could sense the despair flowing from his best friend's wife. It was almost corporeal.

"So sorry…"

Luna Potter's bitter tears soaked into his robes as Ron held her tightly. There was nothing to do but hold her and try to offer whatever quiet comfort he had left to give. Ron felt his own tears threatening to re-emerge but quickly grappled again with his emotions, clinging to the numbness that had brought him so far.

When eventually her sobbing stopped, Luna jerked suddenly away from him. There were still tears streaming down her face and her overlarge eyes took on an almost feral gleam.

"He's NOT dead. He's NOT." She growled, her hands clenching and unclenching by her sides.

Ron bit his lip, unsure how to handle this switch in behaviour.

"He wouldn't DO this to us!"

Luna grabbed a ladle and threw it with all of her strength and it clattered noisily against the far wall of the potions room. She seemed to crumple before his eyes and Ron only just managed to guide her to the chair that she'd left helpfully nearby to rest in between brewing requirements.

She was shaking so hard that Ron hardly dared say what he had to say next.

"Luna." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "There's no body."

Her eyes latched onto his in an instant.

"What do you mean? What happened?" Her gaze was bared of tears and was suddenly intense and insistent.

Ron sighed and managed to collect himself enough to transfigure a stool into a proper chair and bring it next to hers.

"He was on a mission with Kingsley. They were investigating an illegal potions ring." He swallowed down the inappropriateness of delivering this news to her in a potions room. "It was an ambush. Someone had tipped off the merchant who'd been at the centre of it all. The place was warded to the hilt, their detection spells wouldn't have shown anything amiss before they went in. Harry went first of course, the whole place was consumed in Fiendfyre within seconds, even Harry couldn't have apparated out in time, and they found this near to the door."

Ron wiped his hand on his robes before drawing out his best friend's wand.

"I only know all of this because I was put in charge of the investigation. The DMLE didn't know Harry was there, only Kingsley, Tonks, me and Hermione knew. And now Kingsley's dead too."


End file.
